Air of Emotion
by ToxicSoda
Summary: Ashe escapes prison less than a week before the new year, and plans to celebrate with someone. Widowmaker begins to feel more 'Amelie' again and befriends the gang leader Ashe instead of recruiting her for Talon. -This is my first story, please leave criticism!-
1. Chapter 1

Although Jesse and I have had quite the explosives encounters, for some reason he invited me to a bar. With high security guards outside the building at all times. I guess Jesse scared them somehow, as he should be arrested too. I hate his face, and I hate that I had to spend time with him the day after Christmas. My family's lovely gift of a finely printed check would be missed this year by at least the triplets. As well, Bob was still dismantled and I haven't seen him in too long. I usually could handle myself, but without Bob it was strange to be in the public eye. I'm a rebel, I don't need to stay orderly with having Bob around all the time. I don't need him to feel safe. I'm a gang leader after all.

I don't know what dumb reason Jesse gave himself to invite me. I have a feeling he wanted to spite me and laugh at my messy face and overgrown hair. Even in jail, I refused to let anyone fix my face unless it was Bob. He was sure useful. Walking into the crowded bar, hearing the noise, smelling the stenched air… It was filled with donkey breath. Disgusted, I found the worse rodent of the bunch sitting with a empty bar stool, only a scribbled 'Ashe' sat on the seat.

"I know you rich folks get yer seats saved before y'all even enter the building," his voice sounded clearly over the yelling everywhere else, "so I even wrote ya a little paper with yer name on it." he patted the stool next to him.

"I'm good, Jesse. Do you really think I want to be here?" I wrapped my arms around each other and lifted my chin. I eyed around without moving. Everyone had clothes on for the cold outside. Except for myself, as I was allowed a brown sweater, black gloves that were already ripped, black pants that were too thin, and short boots that flopped loosely when I walked. I felt naked without my hat, and caged still, with a metal band with a blue flashing light tracking my movement.

"Now Ashe, let's just enjoy the night," he patted the seat again.

"I recommend going elsewhere if yer that lonely Jesse." I made sure to growl his name. He chuckled and took another swing of his yellow drink. The heat and smell was unbearable, but I couldn't escape the crowded bar. The exits were lined with men with tasers. I examined the restrooms. They must have a window big enough for me to slip out. My only issue was my wrist band. The blue blinking annoyed me.

"Don't be so mean, we used to be family ya kno-"

"And you abandoned us! Fuck off Jesse." I yearned to be further away from him. I prefered my cold lonesome cell than his dumb face.

"Y'need to cool off with water? Y'seem a bit stressed from jail time Ashe." Annoying.

"No, I'm going to drink. Yer paying." I pushed the stool to another table, the people there too drunk to wonder how it got there, and stood touching the latina girl with strange eyes and strange hair, shoulders warm. She quietly drank her drink, it was a vibrant purple, like her hair. Jesse lifted the drink once more.

"So Ashe.."

"I need to use the ladies room." I said lifting off of the counter, the warm shoulder leaving my side as I almost ran to the bathroom. My anxious legs loved to move, and hated being forced here to sit, to stand, to mingle with an asshole. I found the ladies room abandoned. Graffiti littered the stalls.

I found the window quickly, and moved my wrist until a piece of the broken bars hooked on my cuff. Then I straightened my arm to allow my weight to pull on the metals. My wrist began to burn as I swiveled and pulled to loosen the cuff. A small string of red began to soak my sweater as the metal began to sink deeper into the tight space of my cuff. I didn't know if the cuff or my own hand were coming off first. The struggle lasted for only a few minutes but pained too long. Finally, a pop and a loud clack echoed. I fell next to my broken cuff, panting. Sweat dripped from my brow and I lifted a wearing arm to wipe it off, smearing blood on my face, terrifying my look with the already smeared eyeliner and lipstick I had refused to fix.

I now looked at the bent metal bordering the window. Only one of the pieces sticking out held little berries of blood. I looked at my wrist to see burning worn skin and a open wound that stuck itself to my sweater. I stood up again, grabbing my opened cuff, and lifted it to the window. I pushed down onto the stained yellow glass with all my might. It shattered, cold air hit my lungs and the door behind me opened. The girl with the strange purple hair walked in.

"Oh, nevermind then amiga. I'll use it in a bit," her face estranged, then closed the door. I wiped a sticky piece of hair off of my face, and I felt a sudden rush to run. But I was cornered. I grabbed a dull end of a metal liner on the window. Lifting my boot up, my head and chest pushed out the skinny window. My legs became torn with the metal and glass I slid through. The cold air circled my lungs, no hint of warmth was outside. Little yellow light reflected on the snow that powered my fingers, turning numb already.

The bricks on the building helped lifting me up in the dark alley. I turned and slipped in between buildings. Although itching to run, my body was weary and hurt. After walking a safe distance away from Jesse's awful bar, I fell into the snow and let my cuts become numb. Red began to travel slowly around the limbs in the snow. Slow breaths warmed my nose in puffs of steam.

"Shit, this sucks." I stayed there for a bit longer, until I heard loud voices on the street side. Under shadowy cover, I slipped further into the midnight city. Carefully I carried myself in the shadows until I was somewhere no one was. Rich stores with thick bars and dead lights lined the road. It was untraveled for hours except for a single car.

The lone black car shone with clean gloss. People began to exit. The strange girl was there, but so was men in tall suits that looked more like corpses. The strange girl talked loudly as another man came out, one in a dark blob I couldn't tell what he looked like.

Then a long dark silky string of hair stood out of the car they all walked out of. Her coat was of soft purple leather, with fur tickling the bottoms of her purple ears. Her skin was blue in the moonlight and her eyes were poisoned with bright golden rings. Her lethal eyes stayed on my bloody and dirtied self. She looked like a million dollars. Her small hat allowed a small string of hair to fall touching her nose, and I felt an impulse to touch my own. She did not seem to breath, as no puffs of steam fell from her damp lips. Her entire being felt like a still picture. She's just rich that's all. I just need her money to go back home. That's why I stood next to sorry we're closed and allowed another red drop melt the snow next to my boot. I just need to get her money. I've got to get home.


	2. Chapter 2

Today was unpleasant.

It seemed Talon became recruiters of prisoners now that doomfist has joined the council. Reaper had joined us, and eventually I heard Sombra was scouting for the quick shooter from the west. Ashe, as I've heard her referred as, was imprisoned by the outlaw McCree, a former Overwatch agent. Naive McCree supposedly invited her to a bar downtown. I do not understand his intentions. It's just another cold winter night.

Reaper began writing a thorough plan for the recruitment of Ashe. Her freedom for the membership of Talon. How silly, she was trapped either way. The ship ride from London however, was unpleasant. Sombra began annoying everyone with jokes and strange information she'd find about politicians. Doomfist, as he asked to be regarded as, was restless. He lifted a weight and stared at the floor. I'm sure he was thinking, but his face still looked bored.

Sombra was dressed in a holiday sweater she had bought two days earlier. It had a bright flashing lights that looked like they were strung around her body. Little bells rang as she bobbed her head around, their little glow on her ears. Reaper looked the same as ever. He is always under thick layers of dark clothes. My tight boots clicked heels as I adjusted my pose. The fur wrapped around my neck was annoying for now, making my skin burn too purple.

I thought of my late husband. _Amelies' late husband_. I was not ever married, she was. And now both of them are dead. I had shot them both. A black strand of hair swung in a blur as the ship shifted. Sombra dramatically fell over.

"Ah geez! I wish Moira was here to fix my awful pain!" she cried out, then looked at us for a remark. Reaper of course did.

"She'll more likely clone u then kill u and keep the clone, _then_ give the clone a band aid." He grumbled coldly. The mask he wore sucked any light away from his eyes. His shadows seemed to burn unnaturally.

"Eh, it could be fun," Sombra lifted herself back onto a grey metal box. Her hair was a messy purple, too bright for my own preference of the same color. Hers resembled a fire of chemicals I once saw in Moira's lab during a check in. My own purple was of bruises, as Moira explained. She wasn't here of course. She was not needed out on missions very often as she had long before.

Sombra addressed no one in particular, perhaps the ceiling itself, "so I'm heading out to that bar." She played with the light between the fingers at the metal ceiling above her.

"Is that so? You better be working or else." Reaper's deep voice heated the still air. He slouched further into the wall.

"She's what we got. Let it be" Doomfist's authoritative voice ended Reaper's rebuttal. He managed to sink into the wall more. Sombra looked between Reaper and Doomfist, studying them. She looked up again as if she had not been looking. Her purple fingers recently got little gems glued, and shone in the white LED light.

"Amelie, what are you going to do when we land? I would love to go shopping with you," she smiled my way, bringing a tinge of her usual annoyance, "you dress so nice with all of those, pretty things," she pointed at my small bag that held a crystal button.

"If time gives, then it'll be something to spend my fortune on tonight." I hadn't shopped by myself as long as I have been myself. Sombra enjoys my credit card's limitless value.

"Gracious Amelie! I would love to get reaper an ugly sweater too," she laughed, laying on her back, "I would get Doomfist one, but I think he would rip it."

"What says I wont do the same?" Reaper's raspy voice almost startled me. I sat up straighter as Sombra laughed again.

"Gabe, I know you love ugly sweaters!" She laughed again, then lifted an old photo that held and smiling Reaper in an ugly sweater. Except it wasn't Reaper, it was Commander Reyes. He's dead. It's Reaper now. The photo however, had myself in it, in a warm gown. I would never wear such a disgustingly bright dress again. Other faces I barely remember if they are truly dead or not surrounded my smiling figure in the photo.

"Throw that a way!" Reaper reached out for it, but Sombra pocketed it quicker than he could grab it. Her laugh rang again, making Doomfist pause his weights.

"Aww don't worry Gabe! I won't spill your secrets." She smiled looking at Reaper grumble.

"How close are we?" Doomfist addressed Sombra. She opened a window in front of her and looked for a moment.

"Not close enough," she closed the window and laid on her back.

"How close?" He asked again.

"Ah, relax. We're a few hours off the coast. Better?" She opened a window and began to play a game.

"Better." Then it was silence again.

My curtain of hair made a noise inaudible over the engine, but I knew it had made one across my leather back. It felt soft yet it held strands that were thick and sharp. Sombra loved to run her fingers through it, when she got the chance. But that was the only change as everyone quietly hated each other.

And so we sat. Waiting to arrive across the sea. Waiting to meet this Ashe, to get more members of Talon. If what everyone said was true, why would we need to find new members when they should come to us. I felt overthinking it was not needed. The mission had me on it for one reason. I should prepare. I should count the men working to count my bullets.

My eyes suddenly opened as the ship stopped. Sombra bounced stretching her arms. My notebook had little scribbles of numbers, _un, deux, trois, quatre..._ The notebook was closed and my scowl was evident as I remembered the number's purpose, I smiled my usual. I needed something fresh to feel this dead winter. _Cinq, six, sept, huit…_ little pulses suddenly touched my veins with a welcoming fever. The growled at me to get off the ship so they can move the boxes. I faded next to them, lost counting once again. High off the knowledge that I'll feel like a little girl again. Running with fresh air in my lungs and a heartbeat I can warm myself in. I wanted to be covered in that soft beat forever.

The soft chords from the ballet, _The Swan Lake's_ song _, The Black Swan,_ sang into my ears as I felt warm for the first time. The adrenaline pumping as it did my first performance of that sweet dance. My head spun as I felt light, as if I were on my toes spinning. Moira told me she once read that black swans are signs of unforeseen events. But the rush of death was foreseen. It had been too long without such thrills. The soft notes pierced my skin, and I smiled walking into the snowstorm, venom bubbling just beneath my skin.


End file.
